


The Pain of Living...

by AllHallowsEve



Series: Wincest Colored Glasses [26]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anger, Angst, Doubt, Episode: s02e04 Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things, Fear, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hiding Emotions, M/M, Pre-Slash, Self Loathing, Self-Doubt, Wincest - Freeform, blame, oh Chuck so much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 07:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15529389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllHallowsEve/pseuds/AllHallowsEve
Summary: What is dead should stay dead unless you are a Winchester.  Sam wants to visit Mary's grave, and Dean finds a case while trying to avoid his emotions.  Trouble and immense emotion ensue.Season 2 Episode 4 as viewed through Wincest colored glasses.





	The Pain of Living...

**Author's Note:**

> Well at least it didn't take three weeks to get this one finished. But man is it an emotional doozy. But that is why we are all here right? So buckle up buckaroos, you are in for a roller coaster with this one.
> 
> As always this is unbeta'd so please point out any mistakes that need to be addressed so I can make this better for everyone.

Dean wouldn’t hear of Sam going to their mom’s grave without him, but he wasn’t comfortable with standing over an empty plot of land and thinking about their mother either.  He hated that Sam needed it.  That he couldn’t be what Sam needed or looked to in this instance.  More and more lately he felt like Sam didn’t need him at all. 

Dean needed his brother with every breath.  So he was standing here, in this cemetery that was meaningless to him, waiting for his brother to cry or do whatever he needed to do so they could leave.  Dean missed his mom, of course he did, and missed his dad too, but standing over an empty grave talking to someone who wasn’t there wouldn’t help Dean, and in fact made him so uncomfortable his skin itched. 

Dean’s eyes drifted slowly around the cemetery, just looking for anything to hold his attention.  A dead tree, in the middle of the otherwise healthy fauna throughout the place, definitely caught his eye.  He walked closer and noticed a circle of dead ground right by the tree too.  It encompassed a newly placed grave with no headstone. 

Dean asked a man connected to the cemetery and found out that the new grave belonged to Angela Mason, a student at the local community college whose funeral had been just three days ago.  By that time Sam had come back and didn’t seem that interested in what Dean had found.  Even once Dean had pointed out that the grave could be unholy ground or something else nefarious, Sam just seemed lackluster about it, which pounded all over Dean’s already fraught nerves. 

Sam was convinced that this side hunt Dean had found was about their parents’ deaths and not wanting to face it all, more than it was for any actual hunt.  But he could tell by how surly Dean was when he brought it up, that trying to talk about it any further would do no good and would just end up with them in a fight.

The brothers went to the community college where Angela’s dad taught.  Dean wanted to speak with him to get any clues about what might be causing this strange phenomenon around her grave.  They didn’t get much out of him, other than she seemed like a nice girl with nothing that would indicate otherwise.

Sam was completely frustrated with Dean.  He held it in as long as he could but once they got back to the motel, he told Dean they shouldn’t have bothered Angela’s dad.  His impatience got a little out of control when he all but yelled, “We shouldn’t even be here anymore.”

He took a breath and calmed himself, deciding to face Dean head on.  He said, “I think I know what’s going on here.” 

He went on to explain his hypothesis about Dean trying to find a hunt where there wasn’t one just to not have to face how he feels about their mom and dad being gone. 

Dean listened to Sam dismiss his gut feeling about this hunt yet again, but when Sam said this was about him not wanting to think about mom or dad, Dean’s temper flared.  It burned up his spine and made his jaw clench.  He turned angry eyes at his brother, his entire body was tense, he just stared at him because he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t cause him to launch at Sam and pound him in the face.

Sam felt Dean’s reaction with every part of his being, he sighed and his shoulders fell.  His voice was soft as he said sadly, “You want to take another swing? Go ahead if it will make you feel better.”

Sam meant it.  He could feel Dean’s inner struggle as if it was ants marching along his skin, each with tiny knives flaying him open.  He would do anything to make Dean feel better, that included being his willing punching bag.

Dean held the eye contact and said defiantly, “I don’t need this crap.” 

Sam watched as his brother picked up the Impala’s keys and grabbed his jacket.  Sam asked him where he was going, defeat already clear in his vulnerable voice.

“I’m gonna go get a drink.”

That was tough enough for Sam to hear, Dean running away from being honest with Sam, diving head first into another bottle, but then as he finished his statement, his tone was flat, and his beautiful jasper eyes were cold, “Alone.”

Sam would have preferred a punch to the jaw but instead Dean’s demeanor and voice skewered Sam right through the heart.  He stood abandoned and desolate in the room with the echo of Dean’s last word bouncing off the walls and the inside of his head.

He tried to tell himself that this was Dean’s issue, it had nothing to do with how Dean felt about Sam, but he couldn’t quite convince his own heart of that.

He stayed up the rest of the night worrying and churning over who Dean might be consoling his anger and grief with, because it certainly wasn’t Sam.  Dean was gone the entire night.  Sam was a wreck the next morning and he had done everything to try not to call Dean.  He wanted to give Dean his space and not push him, but it was driving Sam to distraction.

He had just decided he might release some of his own fear, self loathing and frustration by jerking off to Dean’s favorite porn Casa Erotica, when the motel room door opened and Dean walked in.

Sam hurriedly turned the television off, hoping that Dean didn’t hear what he had been watching, but his brother sauntered in and eyed Sam knowingly.

All he said about it was, “Awkward.”

Sam tried to deflect by asking in an accusing tone, “Where the hell were you?”

Dean explained that he had been working the imaginary case, and Sam picked up on the sarcastic tone quickly, realizing he might have been wrong, when his brother told him about how Angela’s boyfriend had mysteriously died the night before after having seen Angela everywhere after her death.  Sam suggested that maybe there was a case after all, but instead of mending the fences, it caused Dean to blow up.

Upon hearing Sam say ‘maybe’ Dean turned on him.  Dean had spent the entire night trying to drown the idea that Sam didn’t trust his instincts.  That after all these years Sam doubted his talent to spot a case, just because Sam was wallowing in the loss of their father, Dean wasn’t.  He couldn’t allow himself to.  Thinking about their dad, made him think of what John had asked of him right before he died.  The horrible secret he had forced upon his oldest son’s shoulders, as if he wasn’t carrying the weight of the world there already.

So Dean had drank, and tried to forget what John had said, tried to wipe how Sam had looked when he had said there was no case from his mind.  He had searched the college bars for someone to hook up with, but all the choices left a bitter taste in his mouth because all he wanted was back at the motel with therapy talk on his mind. 

He had spent the morning following his instincts and had found more than enough evidence to prove the case was real, even though he had known it already from the moment he saw the dead tree, he had just known.  But the proof made him feel no vindication, because it didn’t change the fact that Sam doubted him, wanted to psychoanalyze him, wanted to dismiss his instinct.  It grated and ripped at his skin and psyche.  He thought he would feel better when he threw it in Sam’s face, but Sam’s ‘maybe’ had thrown Dean into disarray again.

Dean’s voice was full of pent up frustration as he yelled, “Sam, I know how to do my job despite what you might think.”

Instead of engaging in what was sure to be a ferocious fight, Sam only suggested that they go check out the guy’s apartment.  When Sam didn’t fight back, or disagree, Dean’s anger seemed to dissipate instantly.   He filled Sam in on what he had found, dead plants, dead goldfish, and the fact that he had stole Angela’s diary. 

They decided to go talk to all the friends she had mentioned in her diary.  Their first stop was her friend Neil, who informed them that Angela’s boyfriend wasn’t grieving her death, he was feeling guilty because it was his fault.  The night she crashed her car, Angela had walked in on him with another girl.

It caused the brothers to change their theory to think maybe Angela was a vengeful spirit.  Dean insisted the one sure fire way to end the haunting whatever it was, would be to burn Angela’s bones.  Sam balked, reminding him that she had only been buried a few days, meaning it wouldn’t be bones, it would be a full ripe corpse. 

Dean cut his eyes to the side, and teasingly asked, “Since when are you afraid to get dirty?”

There was a harsh challenging quality to it.  Sam wasn’t sure if it was left over tension from their fighting, or something else.

It confused Sam, and made his stomach churn, not in a disgusted way like the thought of having to see Angela’s rotting corpse did, but in a ‘oh my God that felt like he was flirting with me’ kind of way.  Sam knew he had to be misreading it, and his forehead scrunched in bewilderment, he shook his head in disbelief as Dean put the car in gear and drove them towards the cemetery.

The boys began to dig as soon as it got dark.  They were both sweaty and exhausted by the time they hit her coffin.  Dean used his knife to break the seal on the casket, but still had enough energy to poke fun at his brother by saying “Ladies first,” and pointing towards the cleared casket.  Normally Sam would grouse about it, but he was still reeling from the amount of emotions his heart had gone through in the last 24 hours, not to mention still feeling quite a bit of guilt over not supporting Dean about this hunt in the first place.  So he opened it without a word of objection.

They both stared in surprised perplexity at the empty coffin.  Upon closer inspection they found inscriptions carved into the wood of the inner lid.  The next morning after cleaning up they headed straight for the library to try to research the ancient Greek inscription.  Once they found out that the symbols were divination in origin but could also be used for necromancy, Dean was sure he knew what was going on.  He drove at a breakneck speed to Angela’s father’s house. Sam knew they were lucky they hadn’t been pulled over. 

He could tell Dean was raring for a fight and tried to calm him down as they stood on the front porch.  It did little good, as he watched helplessly while Dean knocked on the professor’s front door so hard it shook against its hinges. 

Dean didn’t spare the man’s feelings at all, accusing him directly of raising Angela as a zombie.  Sam tried to stop Dean, but his brother’s voice rose higher and higher as he yelled out, “What’s dead should stay dead.”

Sam listened to Dean’s tirade, and knew if he didn’t stop his brother soon, it might come to blows, he glanced around the man’s house, seeing that all his plants were healthy and beautiful.  He grabbed Dean and told him to look and see that Angela couldn’t be here. 

Sam apologized to the professor as Dean pulled free of his hold and stomped angrily out the front door.

He followed Dean down the steps asking in an accusing voice, “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

All he got in response was a sullen, “Back off.”

Sam tried to get it through his brother’s thick skull that Angela’s father was innocent and didn’t deserve Dean’s wrath.

Sam yelled at Dean to stop his behavior, but Dean stubbornly told him he knew what he was doing.  Sam angrily denied that, saying he didn’t at all.

Dean just laughed at him and refused to hold eye contact.  He kept walking while Sam tried desperately to break through his brother’s wall.

Sam finally admitted, “I don’t scare easy, but you’re scaring the crap out of me.”

All that earned him was Dean’s continued bulldogged walking and a dismissive, “Don’t be overdramatic, Sam.”

Sam didn’t stop, couldn’t find it in himself to quell the panic flowing out of him.  He told Dean he was lucky that this did turn out to be a real case because Sam was sure if it weren’t Dean would have just found something else to kill.  That stopped Dean in his tracks.  He turned a befuddled face to Sam, his confusion was clear when he couldn’t even get the word “what?” out before Sam continued to berate him. 

Dean’s eyebrows rose as high as they could reach, as he finally seemed to be hearing Sam. 

His brother continued the tirade at him, “You’re on edge, you’re erratic,” Sam’s arm’s flailed about, “except for when you’re hunting,”

Sam looked him squarely in the eye, “Cause then you’re downright scary.”

Sam’s face was a mix of concern, anger and love, “You’re tailspinning man, and you refuse to talk about it, and you won’t let me help you.”

Dean defensively shut his face back down as he said defiantly, “I can take care of myself thanks.”  He turned on his heel and began to stubbornly walk down the sidewalk again.

Sam shouted at him, “No, you can’t!”  He paused to catch his breath, “And you’re the only one who thinks you should have to.”

Dean stared down at the ground as he walked shaking his head in disbelief that his brother would not let this go.

Sam was desperate now, he had to get through to his brother.  He felt like he was watching Dean stand at a cliff’s edge deciding whether or not to fling himself over it and it scared Sam to death.

He pleaded with his brother, who was back to obstinately not looking at him, “You don’t have to handle this on your own.  No one can.”

Dean turned on him then, and angrily said, “Sam if you bring up Dad’s death again one more time I swear,”

Sam put his hand out against Dean’s shoulder, “Stop, please, Dean, it’s killing you. Please.”  Anguish was plain in Sam’s voice now.

Dean’s face was pale and at the pained sound in Sam’s voice his eyes widened and he quieted and listened.

Sam’s tone went flat, trying to control his own emotions that were threatening to make him sit down on the sidewalk and cry.  “We’ve already lost dad.”

Dean found it hard to look at his brother, his eyes kept trying to escape and look anywhere else, but they kept finding their way back to his pleading brother now.

Sam continued, “We lost mom.”

Dean swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing noticeably but his eyes were glued to Sam.

Sam felt his conscience squeeze his heart for adding this but thought it might cause his brother to give him more time to make his point. “I’ve lost Jessica.”

He wasn’t able to maintain eye contact with Dean through that entire sentence because he felt guilty for using her death as a means to make his brother listen.  It seemed like a disgrace to her memory that he cared more about making his point at the moment than the fact her death barely panged any emotion in him anymore.

Sam’s eyes were dark, almost pure chocolate brown as he looked into Dean’s face with open fear and vulnerability as he reached his real purpose, “And now I’m gonna lose you , too?”

The words hit Dean so hard he had to catch his breath, but hid it in one of his signature laughs and a disbelieving turn of his lips that almost formed a smile, his eyes shut down, and his walls went back up.  He couldn’t process the angst his brother had just shared about his behavior, and about how Sam felt.  Panic pushed out the emotions that had begun to float to the surface inside Dean.

Dean said the only thing he could think of that might move his brother off of this topic. Dean said they should go before the cops come.  He tried to convince Sam that he heard him, that he realized he was being an ass and even said he was sorry, but the look on Dean’s face told Sam that if he had made his point with Dean, Dean was miles from actually processing it.

It hurt Sam’s feelings and Sam rolled his eyes, feeling like none of the past few minutes had made a difference.  He had bared his soul to his brother almost to the point of breaking himself and his own barriers and saying more than he could afford about his true feelings for him.  And it didn’t do any good.

But then Dean said, “But right now we have a freakin’ zombie running around and we have to figure out how to kill it.”

Sam took a beat, realized that he had unloaded an immense amount of emotional information at Dean and his brother had stood there and took it.  He might not have processed it the way Sam wanted him to, but when did he ever?  Dean had listened, and that was what was important.  Sam allowed himself to chuckle over the scenario they were in.  The absurdity of it, and allowed it to break his fear that had him in a vice grip at least for the moment.

He said “Our lives are weird.” 

Dean took it for the concession it was and answered, “You’re telling me.”

They went back to the motel and began trying to figure out what would work to kill a zombie.  There was too much lore.  They settled on the only thing that any of the legends had in common, that silver might work to kill it.  Then they realized that Neil might be who brought Angela back. 

Dean had been reading her journal again and realized that it seemed that Neil had some unrequited love feelings for her, but that Angela had put him squarely in the friend zone.  Dean knew all about how that might have made Neil desperate.  Dean wasn’t in a friend zone with Sam, he was in an even worse place, the brother zone.  That was for life, no way to cross that boundary without losing Sam for good and yet he could completely understand how someone would be reckless enough to take any chance to be with the person they longed for.  There had been nights that he thought he would go crazy and absolutely lose his mind if he didn’t get to be with Sam the way he wanted. 

Watching Sam working on the case right now, was enough to cause Dean’s skin to burn from the intense desire of how badly he needed to be with his brother, as more than just a brother, so sure, he could completely believe that Neil would have done something this nefarious to be with Angela in any way he could.

Plus the dude was the professor’s TA which meant that he had the same access to the Greek necromancy spell that Angela’s dad had.  So they went back to Neil’s place and snuck in.

Sam followed Dean’s lead.  Dean assured him he had silver bullets loaded in his gun.  Sam silently pointed out the dead plants around Neil’s house, signifying that they were probably in the right place.

They found a door to the basement that had a sliding lock on it.  In spite of it looking like a zombie pen, there was no zombie to be found.  Dean did find a loose grate on the back wall, which would be an easy way for zombie Angela to get in and out undetected.

They stood for a second and discussed where she might have gone. Then Dean informed Sam that the person Angela’s boyfriend might have been cheating with could have been her roommate, who seemed more broken up over him than over Angela.

They went to check on her and sure enough, when the brother’s got to the front door they heard screaming and went inside just in time for Dean to shoot Angela in the back and stop her from killing her old roommate.  The silver seemed to affect her, but not enough to keep her from getting away. 

They had no clue how to stop her so they decided they needed to grill Neil for some answers.  As Dean drove towards the campus, which was the only place they could think Neil might be if not home, Sam searched for a new idea of how to end her undead existence.  The only thing he could find with any repetition in the lore besides silver was to stake a zombie back into its grave bed.  It was an idea, but neither brother had a clue how to get her back to the cemetery.

They found Neil at his office on campus and when Dean saw the plants dead on the side table he knew Neil was lying about Angela not being there.  Dean noticed a door off to the side and realized she could probably hear everything that they were saying, so he lied and said they had found a ritual to end her.  He elaborated and said that it had to be done at the grave side.  He tried to quietly convince Neil to come with them but he refused.

The brothers left and headed towards the cemetery, trying to prepare to provoke her into her own grave.  Sam would be the bait. Dean didn’t like it one bit, but knew his brother was a runner and could outdistance him with his long legs so stood a better chance at luring her back with a chase.  Plus, Dean would watch him like a hawk in case anything were to go wrong.

Angela came, just as Dean had expected.  Sam went off away from the grave to draw her out, but his long strides didn’t keep him completely out of harm’s way.  Angela got to him and would have broken his neck if Dean hadn’t been there to shoot her.  She fell back into her open casket and Dean jumped down on top of her before she could get free.  He drove a solid silver stake down through her body, pinning her to the casket and the earth beneath.  Her body went limp and the unnatural life faded from her.

The boys spent the last part of the night burying her casket back underground, finishing as the birds sang in the early morning light.  Sam complimented Dean on the smart idea to lure her there with the fake ritual, but complained again about them having to use him as bait.  Dean teased him about being more her type since she seemed to have such crappy taste in guys. 

Sam let it go, since Dean seemed to be in a better mood.  His tight attitude seemed to have broken with the end of the case, at least for the moment.  Sam told Dean he thought the zombie had broken his right hand, and Dean teased him yet again, telling his brother he was just too fragile.  But he did promise they would get it looked at later.

As they passed their mother’s grave, Dean turned back with a lingering glance.  Sam seemed to read his mind and asked if Dean wanted to stay for a while.  In spite of how badly Sam would have liked for his brother to do so, to alleviate some of what he knew Dean was feeling all cramped up inside his soul, Dean refused.  Turning again towards the Impala, stashing his gear and barely waiting for Sam to close the passenger side door before taking off down the road.

Sam watched the miles fly by from his window, his heart heavy with the pain of knowing his brother was in turmoil.  Dean’s face morphed and changed as the miles went by, he was still closed off to Sam but Dean seemed to become more and more emotionally agitated if his expressive face was anything to go by. 

Their normally comfortable silence was anything but.  Sam longed to ask Dean to talk to him, to relieve both of their stress by just getting his pent up emotions out, but Sam knew that would only lead to another fight so he stayed quiet.

After a while, Sam looked over at his brother again and Dean’s eyebrows were furrowed and his jaw was set stubbornly.  Sam could feel the emotions pouring out of his silent brother, but didn’t know how to help.  He knew if he said anything it would cause Dean to blow up in frustration and just give him something to rail against instead of facing his own pain.

Much to Sam’s astonishment, Dean pulled the Impala off the road onto a wide spot overlooking the cliff’s edge where the mountain top they were driving over dropped in a sheer decent.  It was poetically close to the metaphor Sam had been afraid of growing darkly in his belly since their father’s death.

Dean exited the vehicle without saying a word and went and propped himself against the front of the car, leaning on Baby for support as he had done so often in his life.  He wasn’t looking at Sam, he was facing forward and as Sam came around from his side of the car, he realized Dean’s brows were still furrowed and he was eyeballing the ground as if he believed the answers to all the questions in the universe could be found in the gravel at his feet.

Sam asked in deep concern, “Dean, what is it?”

Dean raised his head and looked off into the distance, not able to face Sam just yet.  Of all the things his brother could have said to Sam in that moment, “I’m sorry” wasn’t at all what he had expected. 

Sam couldn’t stop the surprise from his voice as he began to question, “You’re?” but then caught himself, thinking better of it and asking instead, “For what?”

He stood away from the car, fearing that any wrong move might stop Dean from opening up the way he clearly needed to do.

Dean continued to look out into the horizon in front of him, but said, “The way I’ve been acting.”  His head dropped in shame, and he licked his lips.

Sam moved his weight from one foot to the other, unsure what to do, but his body and soul needed to be closer to his brother, needed it maybe more than he ever thought possible.  So he moved slowly towards the front of the car.  He sat next to Dean, who still refused to look at him, moving again to stare at the ground a few feet out in front of them.  Sam sighed sadly, but didn’t say anything, afraid to spook Dean from whatever was happening.

Sam tried to give Dean some privacy by looking out into the trees ahead of them, but couldn’t keep his eyes from seeking his brother out in shock as Dean admitted, “And for Dad.”

Sam’s forehead furrowed in pained confusion at hearing the sadness in Dean’s voice at that confession.  He had no clue what his brother could mean, but sat quietly watching him, waiting for whatever Dean might need to say next.  Sam’s mind whirled with hope and need, but tried to be patient and let Dean say whatever would come.

“Well, he was your dad, too.” Dean struggled with his feelings, trying to put the miasma that had been swirling around inside him since John’s death into some kind of vocabulary that didn’t quite seem to fit, his voice was thick with fighting back the heavy emotions that were threatening to escape unbidden.

The quiet misery that was inside Dean, that his anger and frustration had been holding back, like a growing flood behind a beaver’s fragile damn, was threatening to break with every syllable, but he knew Sam needed to hear him, deserved to know at least part of what Dean had been carrying.

“It’s my fault he’s gone.”

Again, none of this was anything close to what Sam had expected and it hit him like a bullet to the chest. 

Anxiety over what in the world Dean could possibly mean filled his words when Sam asked, “What are you talking about?”  He shook his head, trying to negate what Dean had said, with sheer will.

Guilt poured from every cell of Dean’s being, he didn’t want to face any of this, had been fighting doing so for so long, but Sam deserved to have this out, his brother needed to talk, so Dean would talk.  “I know you’ve been thinking it.  So have I.”  His voice took on a flatter tone, not quite anger, but factual, like he was sure now at least of this part of what he was saying.

He could feel Sam staring at him, could sense it from the periphery of his vision.

“Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”  His voice was pure self deprecation.

Dean went on to explain that back at the hospital he had a full recovery. It was a miracle.  He finally faced Sam, looking his brother in the eyes challenging him to deny what he was saying.  He continued connecting the dots, that their dad died within five minutes of the supposed miracle and the Colt disappeared with him.

Sam had no idea his brother was feeling this.  Of all the things Sam had thought Dean was emotionally hiding, guilt over his father’s death never entered Sam’s mind.  He wanted desperately to refute how his brother was feeling.  Had so much to say, but barely managed, “Dean,” before Dean barreled over him stubbornly with “You can’t tell me there’s not a connection there.”

Sam watched his brother, his face and entire frame seemed determined to own this, to add John’s death to all the other weight he carried on his already over burdened shoulders.

Sam swallowed hard.  He had known all this time that it had to be connected, as much as he would like to convince Dean otherwise, it was all but indisputable, but that didn’t mean it followed at all that it was Dean’s fault. Sam couldn’t face the pain that was writ large across his beloved brother’s countenance, it was Sam’s turn to stare at the ground, lost for what to say, how to make this better.

Dean continued, unwavering in his determination to prove it was his fault.

He told Sam he didn’t know how the demon was involved he didn’t know how it had all gone down, but the one thing he was sure of was, “Dad’s dead because of me, that much I do know.”

No wonder Dean had been so affected by this case.  The words Dean had yelled at Angela’s father echoed through Sam’s skull, “What’s dead should stay dead.”

Sam was at a loss, he had to make this better, he tried to mollify Dean, to convince him there was no way to know that it was all connected for sure, but that just seemed to ramp Dean’s anxiety even more.

Dean began to have a hard time controlling himself, “Sam,” came out just above a whisper. 

As Sam watched in distress his brother tore himself apart emotionally in front of his eyes.  Dean struggled to get the words out, “You,”

Dean swallowed hard, he wanted so desperately to lay it all out, all the reasons he knew he was wrong and bad and carried a love for his brother that would cause John to come back from the dead to stop it at all costs, if Dean ever managed to speak of it.  Instead he stuck to the guilt he could verbalize, that was painful enough to say out loud.  “and dad, you’re the most important people in my life.”

His voice broke at the end causing him to laugh a small deflective laugh.  At how nearly the truth was to the top of his throat, how badly he just wanted to confess and let Sam hate him, not just for John’s death, but for the dirty vile way Dean loved him.

He managed to keep it at bay, saying only, “And now…  I never should have come back Sam, it wasn’t natural.”

This case had brought it all to the forefront.  It had shown Dean the truth of all that he had been hiding from himself about his father’s sacrifice.

The tears began to coalesce, “I was dead and I should have stayed dead.”

Sam couldn’t form words for how wrong that was.  How he would sacrifice John a thousand times, over and over, for one more moment to have Dean with him.  He couldn’t say any of that, knew that it would break his brother to hear it.  So he watched as Dean’s eyes filled to the brim with unshed tears, his lip and chin quivering as Dean fought himself and his own vulnerability.

Sam knew what this confession was costing Dean, as wrong as Sam knew his feelings to be, he couldn’t help but feel privileged, no one, not even John ever saw Dean this way.  Dean never opened and when he did, Sam was lucky enough to be the one that got to see it.  It usually filled his heart with joy and gladness every time it happened, but this time, his heart broke for his brother, broke for how much Dean was hurting, how helpless Sam felt to ease that for him.

Dean said almost accusatorily that Sam wanted to know how he felt, and explained this was it.  Sam hung his head, unable to watch the raw emotions for a moment longer. His heart was aching with it, aching to come clean and say exactly what he had said all those weeks ago at Dean’s deathbed.  Wanted Dean to know he wasn’t the guilty party, that it was Sam that was the wrong, bad, horrible one in this family.  He licked his lips, trying to put together a rebuttal. 

Dean’s voice broke into a ragged whisper, “So tell me,”

This caused Sam to turn and look at him again, his own eyes filled with tears at the sight of Dean’s beautiful face torn asunder by sheer emotion.  His green eyes were filled with unshed tears, pooling into impossibly large drops on the edge of falling, his breathing was harsh and coming in small gasps as his dusty rose colored lips quivered uncontrollably, before finally forming around the accusing words, “What could you possibly say to make that all right?”

His voice was thick with emotion as the tears finally began to cascade down his cheek, Dean looked up at Sam, and he was as lost as Sam had ever seen his big brother.

He stared at Sam, waiting for any answer, not hoping for anything that might fix the broken shards of his soul.  Feeling like he didn’t deserve anything but contempt from Sam. 

Sam returned his brother’s stare with shared agony as their faces for one clear moment mirrored the pain in each other’s eyes, before Sam turned away.  He had to be careful, all his lips wanted to do was confess the multitude of dark feelings he had, to alleviate Dean’s guilt by showing him how much more twisted his own was.  But that would cause a break so vicious that they would never recover, and yes, Dean might forget how his own guilt made him feel momentarily at the horror of what lay silently in Sam’s soul, but Sam couldn’t pay that price.  Losing Dean was too high a price for alleviating his brother’s pain. 

Sam stared off into the sky for answers, what could he possibly say to convince Dean that this wasn’t his fault?

Dean watched as Sam turned away from him, the pain of his brother’s silence hurt more than he had expected.  It was like Sam was agreeing with him, and even though it was what Dean had expected, it hurt so much worse now that it was made plain.  Dean swallowed it down, turning away and looking out over the cliff into the trees farther down the mountain side.  Not being able to bear seeing Sam refusing to meet his eyes.

They sat in torturous silence for a few moments, before Sam cleared his throat.  He felt he was on a knife’s edge, but had to do something.

“Dean,” he cleared his throat again, as he watched Dean turned fearful eyes towards him.  “I love you, Dean.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up, and his eyes grew wide.

Sam took a breath to steady himself, “You’re my brother,”  he tried to calm his voice as he watched Dean’s eyebrows sink back down and his eyes turn from surprised to the churning painful storm of just moments before.  He continued, “and the most important thing in my life,”

“but sometimes I want to bust your head against the roof of the Impala.”

Dean’s entire face morphed into shocked surprise.

Sam stood up and faced Dean, allowing his height to tower over his brother, forcing him to tilt his head back in a way he knew Dean hated.

“No one on this earth, and probably beyond for that matter, could ever force John Winchester into doing something he didn’t want to do.”  Sam’s voice began to rise. 

“Whatever happened between him and the demon, if that is in fact what happened,” Sam’s voice was firm.

Dean opened his mouth to protest but Sam motioned his hand up for silence, before continuing in a commanding voice, “You didn’t ask him to do what he did, you didn’t cause the demon to drive into the car almost killing you, you did nothing wrong.”

Dean shook his head but remained silent when Sam raised his index finger and pointed towards Dean’s face accusatorily.  “Now I know you’re right in that nothing I say can alleviate your feelings because you are the biggest ass when it comes to stubbornness alive, now that Dad’s gone, so I know I can’t convince you how wrong you are, but damn it, Dean, think about it for a second.”

“If you want to assign blame here, how about blaming me?”  Dean’s eyes blew wide again, his mouth made a motion as if to talk, but Sam gave him a stern glare before quickly continuing, “If I had killed Dad with the Colt the way he had instructed me to do, the demon would be done, you wouldn’t have ever been hurt and you couldn’t be having this guilt trip right now.” 

Sam knew he was about to get on dangerous ground but couldn’t seem to stop himself, “I’m glad Dad did whatever he did.  I would have done it in his place if I had known how.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up so high Sam thought he might get a cramp in his forehead, but then they squinted up in anger.  He shifted his weight around on the Impala and Sam could tell he might be in for a fight.

“Would you listen to me man, if I had been laying in that bed dying, what would you have done, huh?”

“Would you have just said goodbye and mourned me and gotten on with your life? Huh?  Or would you have sought out whatever means necessary for stopping it from happening?”

Dean managed to croak out, “But that’s my job Sam, keeping you safe.”

Sam grabbed Dean by the shoulders and shook him.

Dean’s teeth audibly snapped together from the force of it.

“Damn it, Dean!”  Sam yelled so loud the birds in the nearby trees took flight as his words echoed back from the rocky hills around them.

Dean looked up at the violent snarling face of the love of his life, and watched as Sam’s eyes found his, softening and the compassion morphed his angry features into ones that Dean didn’t recognize at first, couldn’t remember seeing on his brother’s face since he grew into a rebellious teenager, Sam’s face looked at him in adoration.  In the ‘you have the answers to the entire world cause you’re my big brother’ look that he wore so often as a little kid, “Dean, I didn’t want you to die, I couldn’t live without you.”

Dean’s eyes grew so wide, Sam could see the whites all the way around the irises, and then softened back to mirror Sam’s. Dean’s heart began burning with some kind of fearful hope that maybe there was more to what Sam was trying to tell him than what he dared believe.

But then Dean berated himself for the stupidity of that, closing down somewhat into a guarded position, remembering all those years Sam was at Stanford.  He had certainly shown he could live without Dean then.

“Sure you can Sammy, you’ve done it before.”  Dean couldn’t hold his stare any longer, couldn’t let Sam see the pain associated with any of that.  It was too close to the truth of the darker things Dean felt.

Sam grabbed Dean’s jaw painfully, “Maybe,”

It surprised Dean so much that he met Sam’s eyes again.

“But I don’t want to.” Sam’s eyes searched Dean’s face, flitted from his eyes to his mouth that had fallen into a silent ‘oh’ and Sam licked his own lips, in a Pavlovian response, which sent a chill down his spine in panic.

Sam realized how close he had gotten to Dean’s face, how close he had come to saying or doing something he wouldn’t be able to take back.  Fear so vast it cramped his stomach filled every cell in Sam’s body.  He dropped the vice grip he had on both Dean’s chin and on his shoulder.

He stepped back and turned away.  “Sometimes you can be so stupid Dean.  Did you ever think that you have to be alive in order to take care of me? Huh?”

“You think Dad would look out for me the way you do?  Did he ever?”

He walked to his side of the Impala, desperate to put distance and some kind of shield back up between the two of them.  He had no idea what Dean would think of what he had said, of what hung unsaid in the air before he came to his senses and walked away from Dean.  He had to cover over his blunder. 

He told as much of the truth as he dared, “I’m glad you’re here, no matter the cost.”

“I just need you to stop behaving like a jerk.”

He couldn’t meet Dean’s gaze and whatever came out of Dean’s mouth next would tell him how much trouble he was in, if he had lost his brother, by showing him too much, or if he had somehow covered it up enough to mitigate any damage he might have caused.

“Maybe I would stop acting like a jerk if you would stop being such a little bitch.”

Relief flooded Sam, it was going to be okay, his brother hadn’t seen too much, he knew Dean would have had a violent reaction if he even remotely felt anything untoward from Sam, so this, this was good. In spite of how close he had come to doing real damage, maybe Sam had threaded the needle enough to help Dean, without Dean seeing too much.

Dean stood up and stomped to the driver’s side of the car.  Sam didn’t see it but Dean’s hands were trembling as he reached for the handle.  Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that Sam had been about to kiss him.  His brain kept telling him he was an idiot for thinking so, but his heart, it was burning, it was questioning, it was replaying over and over how close Sam had been, how good it felt to have his breath puff against Dean’s face.

Dean realized he might be going completely mad because of the pain, guilt, and grief he was feeling earlier, but the nagging feeling that he had forgotten something important from his time in the coma was boring rivulets of hot lava through his body, it was like he could almost remember.  And he was beginning to think it had something to do with Sam, he had a distinct feeling of déjà vu with how Sam had just opened up to him, with some of what he had shared.  Something seemed to be tickling his mind that maybe he wasn’t the only one that had feelings for his brother. 

Dean didn’t trust it, his brain was telling him he was wrong, it was an impossibility that Sam could feel the same way Dean did, but his heart, his traitorous heart, didn’t seem to be listening.  Surely he misread or misinterpreted what had just happened, but as he put the car in gear and headed off down the road, he replayed over and over all that Sam had said, the way he had looked at him there at the last, the intense crackling energy that had flowed between them. 

Neither man said much as the miles began to whip by. Dean pushed a cassette into place allowing Black Sabbath to blare from the speakers loudly, chasing away the silence between the two, filling the car with familiar shared brotherly memories. Dean couldn’t make the mistake of assuming he was right, but instead of the hideous guilt that had been wracking his system for weeks, he now felt hope, for the first time, that maybe he was mistaken to believe he was alone in his feelings and desires. 

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy friends... I didn't know we were going to end up here. I have no idea what repercussions this ending will create throughout the rest of the stories to come, I am flying by the seat of my pants here you guys.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed how this turned out. I really am curious to see where this will go and how it will effect things moving forward. 
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me and for the kudos and comments. I can't tell you how much you feed my soul when you respond to what I write. Much love and I'll see you on the flip side.


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